Stephen King

I took her hand. “I read something once—”
“I don’t think I’m quite ready for a literary discussion, Jake.”
She tried to turn away again, but I held onto her hand. “It was a Japanese proverb. ‘If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples.’ I’ll love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it’s yours.”
She began to cry, and I held her until she quieted.

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